


Crazy Blind Faith

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-17
Updated: 2009-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elle and Luke are being detained together in a government holding facility. They form an unlikely friendship, a bond which is threatened when each of their relationships with Sylar comes to light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy Blind Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Luke is 17.
> 
> First Place Best Rare Pair (R-NC-17) @ the Heroes Het Fic Awards 2009  
> Second Place Best Luke Characterisation @ the Heroes Het Fic Awards 2009  
> Third Place Best PWP @ the Heroes Het Fic Awards 2009

The cell they share is eight by ten, a good proportion of the space taken up by the metal bunk beds and the chemical toilet in the corner. Luke doesn't think it's legal for them to make him piss and shit in front of a girl, a girl who leaves burn marks down his shoulders when he gets dressed in the morning, facing the wall so she won't leer at him. But then, Luke thinks nothing about his capture is legal, not the soldiers with nerve gas who'd stormed his mom's house, not the blindfolds and the earmuffs or the ability-numbing drugs that it had taken him days to recover from. He still feels woozy sometimes but Elle says he's being a pussy and that he's really fine.

He hates her and he doesn't. She always wants to talk to him, teasing him and interrupting, talking over him and flat out telling him that he's stupid. But, it's always with that crazy smile of hers and she never tells him to shut up like everyone else has always done. The price of conversation is the electrical burn that follows older scars up his arm.

When they hear screaming down the hall and boots storming past, not quite knowing what's going on but knowing it's nothing good, she sits on the side of the bed closest to the bars, between Luke and the unknown. She tells him they'll be sorry if they mess with her.

They drag her back into the cell and drop her on the floor at his feet. She's bruised and bloodied all over, and it's up to him to fill the empty silence as she tries not to cry. He hates her for showing him that she can be broken, too.

When she's feeling better, Elle lets him sneak a peek at her breasts when she changes, laughing at him when he gets hard from just a sideways glimpse of her nipples.

Elle tells him about this thing called the Company and a family named Petrelli. Luke doesn't follow all the details and it's so soap opera like that he thinks she might be lying a little, but that's okay because it passes the time and it's not like he doesn't lie too. It takes days to tell and when she's done, if it's true, Luke thinks he might understand why Elle is like she is. He lets her leave a two-inch blister on his inner elbow and ruffle his hair back down when the sparks make it stand on end.

When Elle has no more story to tell, Luke thinks they've bonded or something like it; prison buddies are meant to be the best you'll ever make. He thinks he can tell her about Sylar, about all the cool things that he can do, about how strong he is and how smart, about how one time he rescued Luke when he didn't really have to. He thinks he can tell her about the crush he's had on Sylar from the start and, though he knows she'll laugh, _he's not deluded_, he thinks she might follow it up by telling him that when they get out of here, Luke should look Sylar up and try his luck. A little crazy blind faith would go a long way right now.

So, Luke takes a deep breath and spills his guts, telling her from start to finish everything they'd done and only a few things that he wishes they had. Elle sits there and for once, she really listens. And when he's done, the laugh that comes isn't the Elle that Luke knows at all. It's hard and bitter and she turns her head so she can spit her disgust on the concrete floor.

Then, it's her turn again and she tells him all the stuff she left out the first go around: her father's death and Sylar's hunger; the power he fixed while taking it for himself; the way they fucked when their abilities were gone.

"He killed you?" is the only thing that's left to ask.

"He tried," she says, lips still pursed like she's sucked a lemon. "But he couldn't do it. I guess we have that in common."

It doesn't make Luke feel better.

He doesn't talk to her for five days straight. She zaps him more often and talks louder and louder, trying to provoke him until on the sixth day she just gives up and showers sparks at the wall, electrifying the air in the cell simply to have something to do. But still Luke doesn't break; Elle's only playing possum.

They can talk when she admits the things she said weren't true.

 

***

 

Luke likes the night time best, when the soft glow from the guards' station is all that illuminates their cell. Then, the silence seems natural and Luke can forget that Elle is there. Luke can forget that _he_ is there. He closes his eyes and drags the thin blanket to his chin. It's scratchy and sort of threadbare, and only changed once a week. He has to be careful or by Friday it smells so bad, even he doesn't want to sleep under it. But all that makes it easier to imagine he's in some dive motel with Sylar in the next bed over, not Elle in the bunk above.

When Luke used to do this, when he'd followed at Sylar's heels all day, drinking in the sight of him from every angle, memorising the rumble of his voice and savouring the scent of his hair gel, the tang of his sweat, and the smell that was uniquely him whenever Luke leaned in too close, then, he'd grab his dick and imagine Sylar sucking it. He'd think of every porno he'd ever seen and slap Sylar's face over one guy and his over the other, focusing on the thrust and clap of their bodies.

Now, when Luke slides his fist along his length, still quiet, so quiet that he won't get caught, he thinks about things as they used to be; about Sylar's smile and the way he laughed, about long fingers wrapped around a steering wheel and about dark eyes that were the first to really see Luke when they looked. And when Luke comes, it's not to the thought of Sylar inside him or him inside Sylar but them beside each other again, in a diner somewhere shooting the shit like friends.

But tonight, when he tries to picture Sylar's face, there's always Elle's beside it, and when he wants to remember Sylar's power, it comes out as setting Elle on fire. He thinks that _if_ what Elle has said is true, then she got more mercy than she really deserved. Sylar took her away and set her free. She repaid him with secrets, lying to his face and kissing him while she did it.

Maybe they have that in common too.

Luke has his hand down his shorts and his cock in his hand, and though he's hard, he's not so turned on any more. He stroking himself because no matter what, a feeble orgasm is better than no orgasm when coming is all you have to keep you sane. He opens his eyes, preferring the harsh reality of now, the sagging slats of the bed above and the footfalls of the passing guards, to dwelling in fantasies he can't control. And, when he turns his head to the side, because jerking off to the sight of a stripped down chemical toilet is the kind of thing that even in here can almost make him laugh, he sees Elle's face, upside-down, hanging over the edge of her bed and watching him.

"Elle! What the--?"

She swings down in a flash, lithe muscles making her graceful as well as quick. Luke sees in action all that agent training she's said she's had. She slaps a hand over his mouth and muffles his cries of indignation. When he tries to break away, she straddles him, sheets still between them, Luke's hand trying to shield his cock now instead of stroke it. Elle hisses in his ear, "It's lights out. Don't make a sound!"

Immediately, he's still. They wait and listen but the footsteps of the guards stay steady. They won't get busted for breaking curfew tonight.

Then, Elle slides beneath the blanket beside him, elbowing him to the side of the narrow bed, so he's pressed against the wall and she can teeter on the edge. They roll to face each other because that's the only way they'll fit and Luke's cock, still stiff between them, pokes her in the stomach. Luke thinks they might get busted for fraternisation instead.

She giggles softly. Luke realises that he's missed the sound.

"Sorry," he mouths into the darkness, but Elle shakes her head and wraps her hand around his dick.

"I still think of him sometimes, too."

Her hand slides slowly up and down, and Luke wonders if that's how Sylar liked it. Elle knows exactly what he's thinking because she shakes her head sadly again and pulls at his hips, tugging at him until she's lying back on the pillows and he's stretched out above her. "Like this," she whispers.

She wriggles her pyjama pants down and guides his cock to her cunt. Luke doesn't expect her to be so wet. He wants to ask if that's from watching him or thinking about Sylar or from watching him as he thought about Sylar but for now she's rocking her hips and clutching at his ass, urging him to thrust all the way inside her.

He tries to be gentle because he's heard that's good and that's what girls like, he wouldn't know for certain himself, but there's a tiny spark to his ass and she hisses, "Harder!" in his ear. He bucks his hips and sucks at her neck, biting down to stop himself from groaning. Around his cock her muscles clench and he thinks she might be sparking him from deep inside.

Once he's started, he doesn't think that he can stop. He's jack hammering into her and her nails are leaving half-moon welts on his hips. But when he tries to be considerate, to slow down at the tearing bite Elle leaves to his bottom lip, she only wraps her legs around his waist and doesn't let him ease up. "Harder," she grinds out again. "Sylar liked it rough."

So Luke fucks her roughly, while she fucks him back, lifting her hips to meet him as much as she can without making the bedsprings creak suspiciously and when Luke lets himself look down on her and really see her, not her with Sylar in his place, he sees she's squeezing her eyes shut tight, gasping out in pain. He thinks she doesn't like it hard or rough at all and he wonders if Sylar knew, or if Sylar even cared.

He works a hand between them, ignoring her whimpered, "No. He doesn't…" and searches for her clit. Luke barely knows what he's looking for, sliding his fingertips through the wetness of her cunt, fumbling blind until she moans and then honing in on the spot that eventually makes her gasp. Luke is so focused on rubbing her there, on feeling the gentle blue sparks that fizzle from her to him, that when he comes, his hips slam forward of their own accord and the breath is knocked from his chest. He's left with weak elbows and weaker knees, wild eyed and blissed out. His fingertips keep circling and by the time he slides free she's come twice around his softening dick.

Elle lets Luke hold her while his breathing evens out. Then she pulls her prison issue pyjamas back up and kisses him on the cheek. "I can't sleep here," she whispers, jerking her chin towards the guards.

"He doesn't deserve us, Luke," she murmurs and for once there's no blue spark to punctuate her words.


End file.
